


Rebellious

by beenomorph



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenomorph/pseuds/beenomorph
Summary: “I know,” Kandros says emphatically, and that in itself is a comfort, just being around someone who knows.





	Rebellious

**Author's Note:**

> this was a snippet of a larger piece that i scrapped, but I liked this part enough to want to post it somewhere so voila, its three am

“So, what’s up, Ryder?” Kandros says, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on the table between them, brows lowering and mandibles twitching in some turian expression that was lost on Ryder, “Not that I’m not having fun, but you look like you could stand to vent a bit,”

“That obvious, then,” Ryder says, looking over the rim of his glass at where Kandros was shrugging, “And what’s up with you and venting, anyways?”

“It’s important!” Kandros insisted, “Venting is important. Guns vent, shuttles vent, dreadnoughts vent, the Nexus vents. If they didn’t, they’d malfunction- they’d blow up. People are just the same, you know, that heat’s gotta go somewhere, or they’ll blow up.” he coughs, turning his head, “Well, they won’t really, but you get my point.”

Ryder held his hands up in surrender, “I get you, I get you,” he says, then sighs, eyebrows knitting together as he searched for the right words, “I guess it’s just… I guess I’ve just been thinking,”

“About?” Kandros encourages, two-toned voice little more than a rumble as he takes another drink from his glass. 

“Cora,” Ryder says, after a pause, “I don’t think she’s over the whole, me-being-Pathfinder thing instead of her,” he takes another drink, “And I feel bad about it too! Of course I do- it’s not like I expected to get this job- not like I begged my dad to make me Pathfinder, not like I  _ wanted  _ this,” another drink, “‘Congrats on your promotion, Ryder, now everyone in the Initiative’s lives are your responsibility!’ You know?”

“I know,” Kandros says emphatically, and that in itself is a comfort, just being around someone who  _ knows.  _

“She outranks me, she’s smarter than me, she’s better at this- what I haven’t heard a thousand times, I’ve thought myself.” Ryder takes another drink. He waves down the bartender, who scowls at him, but pours something Kandros can’t identify into a new glass and sets it on the table, “She trained with my dad for years for this. Knew him better than I did,” he moved on to the next glass, the smallest of frowns painting his features, “Still didn’t know why he did what he did.”

“What he did?” Kandros parrots, “You mean saving your life?” when he cocks his head to the side Ryder can really tell why everyone says turians look like birds.

“No,” Ryder groans, running a hand through his curly hair, “No, not that. Making  _ me  _ Pathfinder- leaving me to…” his hands abandon his drink entirely as he scrubs them across his face, sighing, “You’d think, after a guy ignores you your whole life and ruins your career, he might not care about you, you know? Then he goes and dies for you, and you feel like a total  _ dick. _ ” Ryder laughed then, a bitter sound, “And then he makes it your job to clean everything up, and you’re back to square one. It feels like I’ve been living in his mistakes my whole  _ life _ .” 

It’s then when Kandros leans forwards, “Hey,” he says, voice a steady hum against the din of the club as he took Ryder by the wrist, pulling his hand gently away from his face. “Hey. Ryder-  _ Scott.  _ Look at me a second,” Ryder’s dark skin was flushed red, his expression more tired than Kandros had ever seen, “Saving your life wasn’t a mistake. I…” Kandros looked away, mandibles twitching once more as his sub-vocals softened, “Wouldn’t have met you, otherwise. I’m glad he did it.”

“You’d be the first,” Ryder intoned, gaze trailing down to where his wrist lay in Kandros’ grip, and the turian shrugged.

“The first of many,” he said plainly, truthfully, “I’ve seen what you can do, Ryder. Anyone who’s not impressed is wrong, or lying.” 

Ryder smiled at that, and Kandros smiled back- as close an approximation as a turian can, anyhow. When he moved to pull his hand away Ryder stopped him, twisting his hand to take in his own, slow, tentative. Their hands were different shapes, the gesture was a little awkward, but Ryder counted it as a success when Kandros didn’t instantly pull away.

“Thanks,” Ryder says suddenly, “For listening.”

“Anytime, Ryder.” Kandros responds, and Ryder found comfort in the familiarity of the response as the turian gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Silence drifted comfortably between them for a moment before Kandros laughed, shaking his head, looking at their linked hands with fondness, 

“You remember when we first talked, how I told you I was tired of being ‘the good one?’” his free hand raises to make an air quote- a very human gesture. Ryder nods, and Kandros continues, “I’ve got… I come from a military family. Mom fought at Shanxi- could never get over the Incident.”

“Feeling rebellious, Kandros?” Ryder jokes, that lopsided grin finding its way back to his face, lifting the weight in Kandros’ chest at his earlier distress, “Thought you’d worked all that out on the way to Andromeda!” Kandros hums, taking a drink from his glass as he considers,

“Tiran,” he responds after a moment “Call me Tiran. And, maybe I am feeling rebellious,” his voice is light, playful even, as he raises a brow, “Are you?”

Ryder beams, shifting his fingers to more comfortably fit between Tiran’s. “You know, Tiran?” he said, testing the name on his tongue, never once having referred to the turian as anything other than Kandros, “I think I am.”


End file.
